As soon as I have silenced the alarm clock I begin the waking dream of the afternoon nap.

We have no real fear
of anything like hell.
Instead we have errected
bazaars and markets
at the throat of its entrance
and we pay for the privilege
of each visit and every stay.
The more we complain
that it has become
worse than ever before
the more we dedicate of ourselves
to it.
We have found a comfort
within our comfort
of discomfort.
We are made happy
in saying
we are unhappy.

Enough
with the social interactions
that are hurled at me
throughout
the day.
It exhausts
far more
than any rigorous act
without the benefit
of any strength
being built-up.
It only serves
to weaken me
against more
of the same.